Survival
by kurosakiLenalee
Summary: It had been 137 years. One hundred and thirty seven long years of regaining self-control, self-mastery, training and planning. Pitch was ready. Target: Jack Frost. (cutting, torture, blood, child abuse, sexual harassment)
1. Captured

Survival

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians or it's characters. I just give them pain.

Chapter 1: Captured

It had been 137 years. One hundred and thirty seven long years of regaining self-control, self-mastery, training and planning. Pitch was ready. Target: Jack Frost.

* * *

It was a day like any other in the life of Guardian Jack Frost during the end of the month of October. Alone as always. Not much snow to gift others without it causing confusion and potential crop disasters for at least another week so snow days were out of the question. It was either too early or too late depending on which hemisphere you lived in. He was contenting himself with just spreading glittering, fern frost patterns and hanging out in Antarctica. While he was officially a Guardian now, not much besides his title had changed, and the fact that time still held no sway over him. The children that had guarded the Guardians during their encounter with the Bogeyman had passed on as had their children. That was the problem with befriending mortals. They were only with you for moments then were taken by Death.

Now Jack did have immortal friends, but they were always busy with their own tasks. He would visit once and a while but always just seemed to be in the way. North was busy at the pole, hammering away at his new creations, just under 2 months 'till Christmas. October 30th was a very busy day for Nicholas St. North. Tooth and Sandy were up to there usual. It was always night somewhere in the world after all. E. Aster Bunnymund was contenting himself with developing new colors and designs. One could never be too creative after all. The current pattern he was working on would put any babushka's handy work to shame. He did love the intricacies the Russian artists would weave on their own eggs when adding to the celebration of hope and new life. Not that he would ever tell that Russian Tosser, it would go to his head! And that was big enough already.

So there he was, in Antarctica. With nothing better to do with his lots of spare time, Jack had begun practicing and training in case Pitch ever came back. Why not? He knew he had untapped potential when he had gone up against Pitch and been stronger than he though possible when he froze the title wave of sand. Surely there was more to his powers and what he had already discovered could be honed sharper. Surely it couldn't hurt! Just as he collapsed into a convenient snowdrift, exhausted from training, a shadow fell over his closed eyes.

"Hello Jack."

Jack felt a finger of fear ghost up his spine. That voice. It was so calm, poisonous, and mischievous. No good will could be felt from the greeting. It only promised pain. On instinct Jack rolled into a defensive crouch brandishing his staff, pointing it at the man's chest where a heart should have been.

"It's been a long time Jack. 137 years to be exact. Did you miss me?"

"What do you want?" He was not going to get caught up in Pitch's mind games. 'Stay on guard. Don't let him get close. If I need to, I can encase him in ice to keep him still until I figure out what's going on.'

"Why, to see you of course! Revenge is best served cold after all..."

Survival instincts flared and Jack lunged to encase said Bogeyman but Pitch was ready. As the ice left the staff, Pitch rose from Jack's own shadow to wrap him in darkness and drag him under into his own lair. 'Now for the true meaning of fun...'


	2. Begin

Survival

Chapter 2: Begin

The pure darkness dispersed as Jack felt his feet hit solid floor once again. He was in a room with stone walls, floor and ceiling with no door. Next thing he noticed was that his hand was empty. His staff! Movement in the darkest corner of his room caught his eye and a pair of glowing amber eyes were boring into his, malice so strong Jack shivered. Pitched slinked out of the shadow, grin widening, staff in hand. Cold fury enveloped Jack.

"Give. It. Back."

The bogeyman's grin should not have been able to fit on his face. "No." And with that, he snapped the stick in two yet again as Jack lunged for it. "And I won't be making the same mistake as last time." Pitch elaborated as he transported the pieces though the shadows to a different location so Jack would not have a chance to try and repair it as he had the last time.

It felt like his soul had been split. His staff. Not again. Not like this. He collapsed to the ground clutching his chest. No kick into a cliff came this time to distract him from his spiritual pain. Pitch let out a maniacal laugh at the sight. This was too easy!

"Now Jack... We can't have you spoiling the fun now can we? Now, shall we begin?" Jack looked up just as Pitch's boot came down on his right arm, centered between the shoulder and elbow with a sickening crack. Jack bit back a scream as he felt the ends of the bone grinding together as Pitch shifted his foot back and forth. Time for Pitch to complete the set up.

"Get ready Jack." Pitch whispered as he knelt by the frost spirits curled form. He punched Jack in the temple with a knuckle for extra measure to make sure he wouldn't be able to move too much for a minute or two but to still be conscious. Stunned, all Jack could do is loll his head to the side to keep a bleary eye on Pitch. "Now, lets see what your worst fear are, shall we?" Pitch taunted. "You lived on your own with virtually no contact for 300 years. I wonder if you have adjusted to being touched yet after this comparatively short time of being accepted."

Jack shuddered as he felt a hand slide against his taut stomach underneath his frosted hoodie. It was warm. Jack was terrified of heat. The fingers splayed and Jacks oversensitive nerves were on fire. He was almost never touched by anyone. Most people just walked through him or stuck their fingers in his mouth to admire his teeth. He felt the hand rise on his skin taking the hoodie with it exposing his entire stomach. Fear gripped him. This was a new experience and the fact that it was Pitch doing it meant that there could not possibly be any good intentions behind the movement. Pitch could feel the fear and arced his head back in ecstasy. 'So marvelous! I haven't felt another's fear in years!' Jack's head lolled again as he tried to struggle against the foreign sensation. He felt Pitch's knee in his back propping him up into a sitting position so his head was straight back, staring into those disturbing eyes as Pitch leaned forward.

Now both hands were under the hoodie slowly sliding it up so now his chest was exposed. Jacks good arm was worked out of the sleeve leaving only the broken one encased in the blue fabric. Without mercy Pitch yanked it off the rest of the way earning a groan from Jack.

"Time to string you up." Pitch rose and let the boy fall back to the ground with another crack. Shackles of nightmare sand carved with ancient ruins formed around Jack's wrists and ankles followed by chains which connected to the ceiling and floor. They tightened until Jack was strung up in the center of the room spread eagle, upright in mid-air. Jacked could not hold back the small scream as his arm was pulled and the bone separated catching on the surrounding muscles. As Pitch circled Jack to inspect his handiwork his eyes caught on Jack's wrists. Poking out from behind the bindings were scars. Straight white lines that criss-crossed and overlapped trailing up half way to Jack's elbows. Jack shuddered as Pitch ran a finger over a few.

"Oh Jack, what have you done?"


	3. Welcome to the Dark Ages

Survival

Chapter 3: Welcome to the Dark Ages

"Oh Jack, what have you done?"

_'Of all the people to see why did it have to be him? Not even the Guardians know! Only Phil! I've just added fuel to the fire...'_ Mind still reeling from pain and dread, Jack missed Pitch's hand swinging towards his face and connecting with his cheek. A loud slap echoed though the torch lit chamber. Jack roused from his thoughts enough to glare daggers at the Nightmare King. The slap helped him snap out of it and focus on the situation at hand.

"Since you are obviously used to self inflicted pain I get to be creative. How to break you?" Pitch was circling Jack like a shark with an expression that would frighten said shark.

Jack had a look of concentration on his pale face as ice spread from the broken ends of his humerus fusing the bone together to reduce muscle tearing. _'Ironic really, it's called the humerus. Not very comical if you ask me.'_ Now in Jack's mortal life he was not well versed in anatomy, but living for centuries eaves dropping on billions of people you pick up various bits of knowledge; especially when your frosty activities cause injuries to passersby. Pain bloomed in left shoulder blade. Brought out of his reminiscing Jack realized Pitch had stopped behind him. It felt like a blade of sandpaper was stuck through his bone.

"You really should be paying attention Jackie. I just gave you two options, but you obviously wanted option number two."

Gritting his teeth in agony, he asked: "What was option one?"

"Sorry Jackie, I may offer it again later, but until then we are sticking with option number two. Now relax! Enjoy yourself!" He twisted the dagger of nightmare sand causing chips of bone to separate and tare through Jack's back muscles. He was so thin there really was not much between his skin and bones. 'So light even the wind can carry him.' He left the blade in. It was slowing thinning as it dissolved into Jack.'s bloodstream "Now, where next?"

Jack's eyes darted around the room trying to come up with a plan. Blood was trickling down his back, a strange sensation. All that training hadn't been for nothing had it? One aspect he had trained was creating ice without the use of his staff. His staff was like an amplifier for his powers but not the source. His shoulder was burning and itching while his arm was frozen but broken. He tugged on his right arm experimentally. It did not hurt too bad. The ice held. _'Okay, lets do this'_ Ice formed on the shackles on this wrists and ankles freezing them and a few links of the chains. He jerked inward with all his might to shatter the bindings.

The ruins glowed.

"Sorry Jack. You're not the only one who's been improving. While you were playing with ice, I was playing with the dark magic common in my heyday. Welcome to your personal dark ages!"

Another dagger suddenly appeared in Pitches hand and found itself embedded in Jack's thigh. It stuck there as Pitch backed away again. Rivulets of blood stained his pant leg as they ran down past his ankle and dripped onto the floor to join the splatters already formed there. '_Maybe I could push the blade out by forming ice inside of myself? Worth a try at least.'_ Before he could get enough ice formed inside his thigh the dagger had already dissolved into his bloodstream. _'Not good.'_ Now that wound was itchy too. Did that mean the other dagger had dissolved as well? He couldn't feel it anymore so it must have. _'So I just have to change tactics. Armor! I just need to encase myself in ice so Pitch can't pierce through it!'_ Before that idea could be put into effect another dagger punctured in between his ribs on his side and slid along the gap between the selected ribs till it met his sternum leaving an itching, burning sensation in it's wake. He could no longer take it. A scream ripped though him as the dagger was removed and Pitch slid his finger into the cut and widened it, making a disturbing squelching sound as it too traveled the length of the new incision, tearing as it went. It was too much. His nerves were overloaded and his mind shut down, falling into unconsciousness. Too bad he only escaped to another of Pitch's playgrounds.


	4. First Nightmare

Survival

Chapter 4: First Nightmare

It was dark and cold. _'Where am I? Last I remember was Pitch... Oh. I must be in a nightmare. Great. Just what I need. Wait...'_ He was under water. This wasn't just a nightmare, it was a memory. 'I_'m in the lake. Must breath!'_ Floundering, Jack struggled to try and reach the icy surface for the much needed air. Too bad he had never learned how to swim in his mortal life, but after centuries of observation he had a good idea of how it worked now. Using his hands and feet like a frog he drew nearer to the elusive surface only to realize it had frozen over again. Beating his fists against the unyielding ice he struggled. His lungs burned and he could no longer feel his limbs. Then he noticed a complication; the more contact he had with the ice, the thicker it got. He screamed in frustration before he remembered to conserve air. Too late. Water came rushing into his lungs in a freezing torrent. He was dying yet again. His vision was black at the edges. This time the moon was not present. He was to die utterly alone. Suddenly there was a large cracking sound behind him and the sound of something falling into the lake. Using his last strength he turned his head to see none other than his little sister in the same situation as himself. Pointless. His death was pointless. How could this happen? What had he done to deserve this? Sure he was on the naughty list but his sister never was! Wait, did this part really happen or was it a twist of fate constructed by the nightmare? He couldn't remember. It had been so long ago. Had he only seen part of the memory stored in his teeth or was this a perversion? Struggling to reach for his beloved sister his vision narrowed until it was completely back. He could feel nothing. He was nobody now. Just someone who died without a cause in a frozen lake.

He came to throwing up water.

"Hello again Jack. Did you miss me? You were out for almost 15 minutes! I hope it was pleasant, but by the looks of it, I doubt it. Shall we continue?"

Spluttering and choking, Jack glared at the Nightmare King. "What *cough* did you *cough* do to me? *cough* Why do I have *cough* water in my lungs? *cough* It was just a nightmare!"

"Oh Jackie. Did you think you were the only one improving your skills these past 137 years? I have made some improvements as well. Those daggers I used had ruins carved in them which your body assimilated when the daggers were absorbed into your bloodstream. Now not only does your mind live your nightmares but your body as well."

"You're sick."

"Oh no, my dear Jackie Boy, I am just having fun." His grin spread upwards at the twisted use of Jack's center. "Now, to continue where we left off." A rope of nightmare sand slithered up Jack's only good leg and around his torso like a snake. It squeezed tighter, constricting his breathing, when suddenly spikes shot out along the rope tearing into his flesh. "Much more effective than individual knives don't you think?"

It hurt. It hurt so bad. Tears were frozen in tracks down his face. Those thorns had to be at least two inches long each. How much blood could he loose before he passed out again into another nightmare? This was not looking good. Also, could be die? Could immortals die? Sandy had, but was revived again once he could separate himself from the rest of the nightmare sand since they were made of the same elements. Was death an option? Suddenly there was a mighty tug on the rope and it recoiled dragging the thorns with it in long spirals down his torso and leg 'till it finally lay limp on the crimson floor. Jack's scream echoed around the chamber. He was being shred to ribbons. Shredded alive. His blood was abandoning him. Running to the floor. Running for freedom. If only the rest of Jack could as well.

Pitch circled to the front of Jack. He was a sight to behold. Blood was splayed all over his front; on his face, robes and hands. With a malicious grin Pitch examined his fingernails, hypnotized by the way Jack's blood reflected the flickering torch light. '_What does it taste like, I wonder?'_ Not able to resist any longer he brought his fingers to mouth and his tongue swept over the scarlet droplets. _'Hmm... Copper and pine and fresh snow... It's warm. Strange that a winter spirit would have warm blood.'_ "You taste wonderful Jackie. Want to try?"

Before Jack could react, Pitch stuck his hand in Jack's mouth. Revulsion. Pure disgust was all Jack could feel as he was forced to taste his own life force. Before the shock could fully wear off, the sticky fingers were removed. Lucky for Pitch or he would have lost those digits.

"You look magnificent, except your hair. It's too pure. Needs some color don't you think?"

Knowing where the next strike was to come Jack poured his fading strength into putting his half forgotten plan into action. _'Armor. I need a helmet.'_ Just as Pitch was bringing down a dark, glittering club at the side of Jack's head ice spread on the intended target half forming a helmet before it was shattered. Jack's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. The blow had been softened but still resulted in massive whiplash.

"Clever Jackie Boy. Using your head now are we? Too bad it won't be enough."

Jack was loosing consciousness again. Blood loss and blunt force trauma to the head was not a good combination. As his vision was fading he barely registered the fact that the club was coming down again and this time connected with his skull at full force.

**A/N Yay! I have one review per chapter! Thank you so much for following. I will be trying to comply with requests to make the chapters longer. Why is that so hard?**


	5. Second Nightmare

Survival

Chapter 4: Second Nightmare

Dark. Silence. Cramped. He was stuck on his back in a confined space. It felt rough like stone. _'What on Earth? Where am I?'_ His head was throbbing, everything ached. He felt around tentatively with his hands. The space was so tight he could not move his legs or shoulders, just a little leeway for his elbows. He pressed up and felt wooden planks. _'A floor. I'm stuck under someone's floor.'_ His breathing quickened as he heard a door creak open and heavy boots strike along the floor above him. Someone was there! "Help! Someone, please get me out of here!"

The boots paused for a moment then approached the section above Jack. The man must have been carrying a torch because beams of light seeped through the cracks between the floor boards allowing Jack to see dust dancing all around him. The man above knelt down and gave the trap door a mighty heave. Blinded by the light, Jack looked into his savior's face. It only increased his terror. Instead of the kind, concerned face of a rescuer, Jack saw a burly drunkard with blood shot eyes staring in pure rage and pointing at him with the flaming torch.

"Not. Another. Word." His voice was a harsh whisper. "Unless you fancy playing with fire?"

Jack shook his head fiercely still gazing into the mad man's eyes. "No, sir." Who was this man? How the heck did he get into this situation? And more importantly, how is he supposed to get out unscathed?

"Good. One more peep and we will be having _fun _tonight."

Gulping, Jack could just nod mutely. This man seemed slightly familiar. From where though? He was sure he was not a father of one of the children he gave snow days to; nor did he look like any of the homeless people he remembered. Suddenly it struck him: _'It's a memory again.'_ This was the man that had made Jack's life a living hell for years; the man his mother had married, his and Pippa's father. The man that changed for the worse and took it out on the rest of them in the name of "fun."

The trap door swung shut with a mighty shower of dust and dirt showering down on Jack. He had to suppress his coughs or that man would swoop back and pounce on him. Solitary confinement. That's what this was. He had done something to upset his father, no, he did not deserve that title, that beast. He could not suppress it any longer. His cough had to escape. He had no room to maneuver to try and cover with anything but his hands. A lung rattling cough reverberated through his rib cage. _'That's right, I was always getting sick. We all were.'_ No wonder he felt so achy, more than would have been warranted from being compressed under the floor boards. The heavy boots returned in record time. Up swung the door once more to reveal spitting mad face of the man. In he reached, roughly grabbing one of Jack's arms to pry him out of the small hole in the rock foundation. The arm twisted and his elbow gave an agonizing pop.

He could not completely hold in the cry as the pain radiated in both directions from the source of the sound. The man just continued pulling him toward the next room where a fire place was glowing. For some reason, the sight filled him with dread. Sticking out of the coals was the handle of white hot poker. _'I remember.'_

The man reached for the poker with his free hand while the other threw Jack against the wall. He slid down it dazed. He still did not have feeling in his legs and he just felt so sick. But he had to move. He had to escape. He was coming!

Pain. The smell of burnt meat. It consumed his mind. He could here screaming, but did not know where it was coming from. It was accompanied by laughing. Terrible laughter.

"I gave you a chance. I've been more than fair. I feed you, clothe you, even let you stay under my roof. All you need to do is obey my rules. What's so hard to understand about that?! WHY CAN'T YOU BEHAVE?!"

I feel it again. The intense heat stabbing into my abdomen. Searing flesh as it tears it's way inside. I scream. My throat is raw. _ 'Why is it raw? Was that sound me screaming earlier? What did I do to deserve this?!' _I feel a fist connect with my skull.

"I told you to shut up!" The poker is removed and returned to the coals. I can't last another round. My vision is fading.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Jack."

It's Pitch. I'm back in the stone room, strung up for his sick enjoyment. My head lolls forward and I see the burns and holes left from the poker of my nightmare memory. This was so wrong. This should not be possible, yet here I am stuck. _'How long have I been here? Surely someone will notice that I'm missing soon! They have to! What else is there to hold on for?!'_

"Pity you slept through midnight. Oh well, better late than never. Happy Halloween Jack. The best day of the year. And to celebrate, I have a special surprise for you." Stepping out of the shadows, into the torch light, Pitch bares his gleaming scythe. The one he fought Sandman with all those years ago. I can only stare at the wicked gleam reflecting in Pitch's eyes. This cannot be good.

**A/N Sorry this took so long, I went on three back to back to back vacations so I have been indisposed for the past three weeks. Been working on making the chapters longer as per requested. Thank you for your support! I also went through the previous chapters and fixed up some spelling mistakes. I you see any I missed please let me know. Thanks!**


	6. Halloween

Survival

Chapter 6: Halloween

**Warning: Lots of blood and sexual harassment. **

All Hallows Eve. The one night of the year more people thought about the boogeyman more than any other night. His time to play with reckless abandon. The children's fear was intoxicating. He did not even have to be present to inflict the fear. Others were so courteous as to do it for him. Humans dressed up as soul sucking creatures, the undead, ghosts, goblins, devils, mass murderers, and some times even as himself: The Boogeyman. His blood was tingling in his veins with the extra, raw power. Now, what to do with it?

Jack hung in the chains, eyes overcoming their glaze to focus with wariness on Pitch and his chosen implement. The scythe was wicked looking. Gleaming in the flickering torch light and reflecting the sharp, serrated grin that was etched across Pitch's face. _'Not good.'_

"Now Jack, let's play shall we?" The smile was sickening. He was slowly encroaching upon Jack. The shadows were writhing in anticipation. No energy. Jack had no energy left to fight back. He could do nothing to halt the creeping Boogeyman. Helpless. Would no one come? _'Please! Someone come! SOMEONE notice! SOMEONE HELP!'_ With eyes wide all he could do was watch with sickening horror as Pitch delicately brought the scythe to graze over the flesh of Jack's wrist exposed above the shackles. He drug it with agonizing care. A small bead of blood bubbled from it's skin confines. It stung.

The scythe moved up his arm slightly and repeated the movement but with a slight increase in pressure. Now a line of crimson was peaking through the second mark. Again. A slight trickle. Again. Rivulets. Again. A gash. Again, followed by a finger this time. Jack could not suppress his moan as that last one was widened. This was nothing like the ones he had inflicted upon himself. There was no relief as his life force ebbed and ran down his raised arm and down his torso. No blissful numbness or reassurance.

Pitch could not contain his laughter as that precious moan was dragged from Jack's slightly blue lips. _'Dear agony! This is so delicious. So tempting.'_ He reached out an empty hand to drag through the beautiful scarlet to twist it's course into mesmerizing patterns against the pale canvass. He couldn't stop himself. He leaned down to drag his tongue through it. _'What a strange sensation! Warm blood on frozen skin. So tantalizing.'_ Addicting. He was now addicted. He couldn't stop. More. He needed more. Bringing the scythe down from Jack's shoulder to opposite hip in a tearing slash he caused more red to well up only to be lapped up greedily. _'What have you done to me Jack?'_

Jack screamed as the tool of torture was brought through him, as deep as the carving in his ribs. The tongue. What was it doing?! It felt so wrong. It was hot and smooth, unlike the rough sand Pitch had been using earlier. And wet. Jack's skin felt like it was crawling. He could do nothing to stop the tear that escaped unbidden from one of his drowning eyes. Nothing. He could do nothing to stop the demented man from his ministrations. Disturbing thrumming sounds were coming from said man's chest. They were deep and vibrated through Jack as Pitch pressed up against him to continue his feast.

"Pitch!" choked out Jack as the tongue slipped inside the gash, no longer content with just the surface offering. "Stop."

The humming increased and morphed into a chuckle. "Now Jack, what would be the fun in that? You had this coming you know. This is just the tip of the iceberg. All those mistakes and messes you have made. You know you deserve this." The humm intensified as the tongue gouged into the incision once more, but this time ran the entire length of the wound. Jack opened his mouth to refute the claim, but his voice failed him. Once Pitch reached the hip bone, he withdrew to assault Jacks's mouth.

_'So cold. I can feel my breath freezing inside his mouth!'_ Exploring every corner of Jack's shocked mouth was too tantalizing. His taste mixing with the taste of the blood was exponentially pleasing. Smirking and pulling away before Jack could recover and retaliate, Pitch sucked in Jack's lower lip and drug it through his serrated teething leaving it shredded. Placing a kiss on the corner of the brutalized mouth, he could not help but smirk against his prey and whisper. "You are beautiful." He licked the bottom lip again in mock affection.

"You are sick." It's all I could croak out. _'What has gotten into this lunatic?! He never did anything like this last time! I feel so violated! Arg! What is he doing?!'_ His pants. They were being pulled on by greedy hands. Strung up the way he was they could not go very far. Pitch was resorting to his knives again to tear away the offending clothing leaving a shivering Jack. _'Not good'_ was Jack's last though as Pitch moved behind him, out of sight.

A finger. He could feel a finger gliding down his spine. It kept going lower. No one had ever done this to him before. '_I have to stop him! What in the name of MIM is going on?! Ice! I need to encase myself to evade his convoluted musings.'_ Using all his concentration he had left be focused on the ice in his core. _'Harder, colder, compress, shine, add layers, keep compressing, now RELEASE!'_ A blast of ice blew from Jack in all directions catching Pitch off guard and throwing him against the wall. Heaving with exhaustion, Jack felt his consciousness leaving him. He had put every particle of energy he could muster into that explosion.

Circling the fading boy Pitch sighed. "You don't have much time left. Pity. It was going to be so much fun. Oh well, maybe next time. I guess it's time for the send off. Brace yourself Jackie!" With that Pitch swung the scythe with all his might down into Jack piercing between his collarbone and shoulder blade. Further and further it kept sinking until it entered his lung, then further still until it was fully sheathed inside poor Jack up to the hilt.

He couldn't contain it. His back arched with agony as he let out a soul ripping scream that turned into a half gurgle as one of his lungs collapsed around the still encased blade.

"Happy Halloween Jackie."

**A/N Hope that wasn't too gross. Why is Jack so fun to torture? I have issues! **


	7. Missing

Survival

Chapter 7: Missing

It seemed like a fairly normal work night collecting teeth despite the festivities of the mortals. Halloween was not Tooth's favorite holiday. It was too full of sugar! And the children stayed away longer than usual cutting down the retrieval time. Ever since Pitch's return over 300 years ago Toothiana had been spending more time out in the field instead of just supervising. It was great to feel the wind in her feathers. Flying over Oaxaca, Mexico Tooth suddenly felt here energy drain. Dropping onto the roof of the Basilica of Our Lady of Solitude she tried to catch her breath. What was going on? This was not normal. There was no reason she should be so tired! The last time she had felt like this was when Bunny had gotten fatally wounded when they first defeated Pitch to bring an end to the Dark Ages. Nothing had happened to Bunny had it?! '_I have to check. Something is wrong. The baby teeth should be okay for tonight.'_ With that thought she left for The Warren. Flying was a struggle, but she had to make sure.

In The Warren, Bunnymund was waken from his sleep by a deep seeded sorrow and pain. _'What in the dingo in budgie smugglers is going on?!'_ He twitched his ears trying to make out the sound of anything amiss, but could pick up nothing. Not even the fait wisp of a breeze. Everything was dead silent. Eerily quiet and unnatural. Something somewhere was not right. While going through a mental list of where this strange feeling could be coming from a buzzing was heard. _'Tooth? What is she doing here? It's the middle of the night!'_

"Aster! Are you all right?! I got this terrible feeling!" she said in a rush while trying to catch her breath landing next to the object of her worry.

"I'm fine sheila! What's going on? This dark, depressing feeling woke me up. Never felt anything like it!"

"Of course! Last time this happened was when you took Pitch's scythe to your abdomen and were nearly torn in half." She shuddered at the memory. "This only happens when one of us are fatally wounded. Our energy gets drained and channeled to the other for healing. It's how you made it out of that situation alive."

"Oh. I never put much thought into how I got healed after I woke up at Santoff Clausen. Figured it was just my amazing stamina."

"No. Sandy, North and I each gave up some of our energy and magic to bring you back from the edge of Death. It's the only time one of us has been injured so badly."

"Well, if it wasn't me this time, and it's not you, who is it?"

"Let's go to Santoff Clausen. If it's not North then we can call the others with the aurora borealis."

"All right. Let's head out. You don't look so good. Get on my back and we'll take the tunnels."

"Okay. It took a lot out of my just to get here." Climbing onto Bunnymund's back and holding on to his soft fur Tooth braced herself. Bunny thumped on the ground and down they went. The travel was fairly swift bounding through the underground. They came out in the snow a few feet from the main entrance. _'Why would ANYONE want to live somewhere so cold and desolate?'_ was all Bunnymund could think as he knocked on the giant mahogany doors. Two yeti's opened them admitting them into the warm entry way. The yeti's looked nervous.

"Tooth! Bunny! Vat is going on? Something is wrong! I can feel it, in my belly!" North was leaning over the banister above them with a worried and confused expression on his normally jolly countenance.

"Don't know North. That's why we came. Seen Sandy or Jack recently?" questioned the Aussie.

"I saw Sandy few days ago. He seemed vine. Haven't seen Jack in couple months dough. You Tooth?"

"I saw Sandy two days ago when we worked an area at the same time, but I haven't seen Jack in a few months either. What do we do! Something has to have happened! Someone is hurt!"

"Calm down sheila. We'll just summon the others and go from there. If either of them don't show up we know who to look for." He tried to infuse as much calm into his voice as possible to try and calm the over protective fairy. Her heart was in the right place but they needed to be rational.

"I send the signal. You two can vait in meeting room. I'll join once it is done." He ushered them into the comfortable, cheery looking room to await his return. The fire was glowing but the warmth did not seem to reach either of the occupants.

"It's Jack. It must be. How could I not have checked up on him more often? It's my fault! I shouldn't have left him alone for so long! What if we're too late when we find him?!"

"Tooth. Calm down. If I know that show pony, 'e probably just got hurt from a prank gone wrong. Besides, we don't even know if it's 'im yet or somethin' completely different is wrong!" Trying to be the rational mind was never E. Aster Bunnymund's strong suit but he was good and looking at multiple possibilities. Supposedly it came with the artistic mind.

In lumbered North to settle into an overstuffed couch. "It's done. Now ve vait." The intense silence did not last long as a golden airplane flew by the window. North rose to open it so Sandy could enter. He stepped of a shimmering cloud with a question-mark followed by a tragedy mask above his head.

"Sandy, we think Jack is in trouble. He's the only one not here and we've all had magic and energy drained. Any idea where he could be?" St. North inquired. A picture of a tree by a frozen pond formed and they all nodded. "Of course! He would most likely be in Burgess."

"But he could be in Antarctica mate. It is still October."

"Bunny is right. We should split into twos and check both. Tooth, let's take the sleigh. Sandy, you and Bunny check the arctic. Meet back here in one hour." With that they dispersed and embarked on their missions.

Aster couldn't help but grumble. "Why do I get the coldest place on earth? North must be chuckling to 'imself right now. Bloody bandit." _'At least Sandy won't make fun of me.'_ They took the tunnels with Sandy paddling a canoe to keep up with the Easter Bunny. They made quick time and came out in the middle of a blizzard. "How on earth are we supposed to find anyone or any clues in all this blasted snow?!"

Sandy just shook his head and created a solid dome of gold to shield them and a portion of the surrounding area from the onslaught. At lease this way they could search a section at a time unhindered by the natural elements. "Thanks Sandy, you're a doll mate." Sandy scowled at the endearment but focused nonetheless. It had been 45 minutes of searching in the freezing cold. Bunnymund was only surviving because Sandy made glowing boots for the pooka. There was lots of gashes in the snow and rock from what looked like Frostbite's training. "Intense. Remind me never to get the bloke TOO angry Sandy."

Sandy just gave an exasperated shake of the head in response. _'There has to be something! I hope the other's are having better luck. Haven't seen the lights yet so they haven't found him and returned yet.'_ Suddenly something large and black was looming inside the shifted dome. A shimmering sculpture of frozen nightmare sand.

"What on earth is that? Pitch was here?! Can't 'ave been. We defeated him over 300 years ago! Just look at how deep it's buried. This seems pretty old to me. Any thoughts Sandy?"

An arrow formed pointing at a fairly fresh blast radius nearby. An hourglass followed by a snowflake and sun formed in succession.

"Snowflake did this yesterday? I guess you're probably right. It's not too buried so it's relatively new. It's a lot bigger and deeper than the other ones we've seen. Think he was defending 'imself from an attacker?"

Sandy reached out with his sand blanketing the area to feel out clues. There were no pleasant feelings lingering in the snow so it was not just normal training that caused this. _'There!'_ Reaching down into the snow with a golden tendril, a few grains of black sand emerged.

"Oh no, Sandy. You've got to joking. Pitch? You sure it's not from that bizarre sculpture?"

He nodded. This was definitely from a dream had just given two weeks ago. Apparently it had not remained a dream, but been transformed into a nightmare somewhere along the way. Pitch was back.

**A/N Trying to get the accents down. BTW, _dingo in budgie smugglers _means a dog in a Speedo. :)**


	8. Recollections

Survival

Chapter 8: Recollections

_'Pain. So much pain. Can't breath! Why is pitch black? Wait, Pitch!'_ Jack came to, chest heaving in an effort to suck in as much oxygen as possible. His eyes shot open and noticed that for the first time since his capture that the torches were not lit and he was alone. All alone. And in pain. Not as much as he should have been in though. Looking down, he noticed a small sea of blood collected beneath him. _'How am I even alive?!'_ Paying closer attention to himself he could feel a knitting sensation in his chest. It felt as though a lung was being put back together which would explain his erratic breathing. There was no sound except the slow, steady drips of crimson joining their brothers below. His gashes on his front also seemed to be congealing and freezing over. Strange. It was still a new sensation to the winter spirit; un-frozen blood. Before, when he was a newly awakened spirit he had gotten cut on branches and things but they never bleed. There would just be frozen purple peaking out from the jagged edges of his skin. It had all changed once he became a Guardian though. Something caused his blood to thaw and actually circulate through his corps-like body. He had first noticed it when he was driven to cutting himself again after taking the oath to protect the children.

The first time he had ever cut was after the blizzard of '68, but his blood had still been frozen then. After over 250 years of no direct interaction with a single living creature Jack was desperate for recognition and the thought of maybe even being able to touch someone. He needed proof that he existed and was not just a figure of speech. He was not just a phantom damned to roam the earth utterly alone for the rest of eternity was he? He must have a purpose! If only MIM would tell him what it was. Why him? What had he done to deserve this eternal punishment? He must have been a terrible person in mortality to bring this harsh judgment upon himself. Maybe someone else could tell him what his purpose was.

That fated April, he decided to try and interact with one of the legends the children always talked about: The Easter Bunny. They must be real! Millions of children believed in them! How to get the Easter Bunny's attention though? Something different from the normal Easter Sunday should surely work! With not much to work with, Jack poured his hopes and dreams into a small snow storm over a tiny town in the Connecticut that needed the snow melt. _ 'I just need to cover the area in a blanket so it will surprise the Easter Bunny and he will notice me! It would even be fun for the kids! Colorful eggs stand out better against white.' _With that thought fueling his long repressed desire he continued to pour out his soul into the snow making, eyes closed in anticipation. When he opened them, a horrifying sight met his once hopeful gaze: a raging blizzard had gone out of control burying the entire town and it's outreaches. Desperate to try and call it back in under submission he only made it worse. It just continued to grow. He had put so much heart and energy into it that it raged on unchecked.

Tragedy was the result. The storm had covered the entire United States, Canada and was encroaching into Mexico. Some tendrils even reached across the Atlantic to torment parts of England, Scotland, Ireland and Norway. There was nothing Jack could do. It was too much too fast. Easter was ruined. As Jack landed on the frozen ground that used to be covered in green and pale pinks he heard a gruff voice call out from behind him. It couldn't be talking to him, he was invisible! But there it was again!

"What'cha ya think you're doin'?"

What a strange accent! He had heard it before but Jack did not usually spend a lot of time in Australia. A little warm for him usually. He turned with wide eyes to see the magnificent form of a 6'1" tall rabbit with beautiful marking covering his grey fun. _'The Easter Bunny! I knew he was real!'_

"Jack Frost."

Jack could not help but feel the warmth of realization flooded through him. "Y-you k-know my name?" The hopeful tone was quickly shattered as Bunnymund cut in.

"A'course I do. Every spirit does. Yer a bloody nuisance to most'a us at best. I knew yer was good fo' nothin', but this is downrigh' evil! Wha' was ya thinkin'?! Ya ruined Easter and killed thousands o' people!" He was livid. How could a spirit be so selfish as to destroy his holiday, and so evil as to take the lives of so many innocent people all in one go! "Yer the most selfish spirit I've eva met. Yer worse than useless! Do everyone a favor and get lost, ya bloody bit'a Frostbite. Everyone'l be better for it!"

They knew. They all knew about him but ignored him. He was so disappointing and selfish that they never even bothered to say 'hello.' No wonder no one ever acknowledged him. He deserved it. _ 'I guess it is selfish to want to be seen by others, to be believed in. I don't deserve happiness or hope. I _deserve_ this. I'm evil. Everyone will be safer if I just disappear.' _With that last thought ringing through his mind be flew off leaving an irate rabbit behind. He flew 'till he dropped from exhaustion right into a snow drift. With no idea where he was he just curled up under a tree and cried. Nothing could stop the tears from running down his frozen face, stopping in their tracks when they became the same temperature as his skin. He was evil. There was nothing he could do to bring back the people he had murdered. It was all his fault. He deserved pain.

Just then, an icicle from the tree he was under broke and fell, point down in the snow next to his head. It sparked an idea. If he deserved pain, then he shall have pain. In token of the lives lost he would scar himself so as to never forget them. Always remember the screw-up that he was. The murderer he had become. Sure people had died before from his winter chills and starved from his snow barricading them indoors, but never on this scale. The good and joy he had brought had been in balance with his bad. But not anymore. Now he was just evil.

Anticipation was ringing through his veins as he positioned the shard. The icicle stung as he drug it through his wrist. It was a strange sound as it cut through his cold flesh and frozen blood. Slightly crunchy. But now he would always remember. All he would have to do is look under his sleeve at the mark to remember what he was. He was evil, and there was nothing he could do to atone for the wrongs he had done. Ever since then, whenever his powers got out of control causing others to perish, he would make another mark. A remembrance of the deeds he had done. The mistakes he always seemed to make. The messes he made. He could forget about them for a while while he played with children around the world, but something always went wrong eventually.

This way of thinking changed slightly after he became a Guardian. His powers were in better control now that he had North and Bunny to ask advice from once and a while or spar against, but he was in no means perfect. Also, he had a few of his memories back. Pippa, his little sister, had become his strength, his purpose. Whenever he felt the need to cut, he would think of her. Sometimes it wasn't enough, but those moments came less and less often. Now, whenever he could not suppress the needed of relief from the pressures of never letting anyone down or hurting them, the cuts would flow. It was strange feeling, liquid blood, but so much more fulfilling than just the sting of splitting flesh. He no longer needed reassurance that he existed, but they still helped him cope. At least, he thought they did. Until an image of Pippa would flash in his mind and he would be ashamed. She was his reason he was fighting back against Pitch. He had her, had saved her no matter what Pitch did to twist that memory. He could do this. _'I'll survive this and make sure this never happens to any other child. No matter what Pitch does, I am not worthless or useless. The Guardians will come. I have a place I belong now.' __  
_

Dragging himself out of his musings, resolve solidified, Jack concentrated on the feeling of being healed. It was another new sensation. How is this possible? I didn't know I had healing abilities. You would have thought they would have kicked in sooner! Well, better now than never I suppose.

A blood-chilling finger ran down his spine as he heard a deep-throated chuckle reverberate inside the small room. Pitch was back.

**A/N Thank you so much for your reviews! They are my motivation. School is out right now which is why I can update so fast. Also, I don't think fic will be ending too soon. Pitch still needs more play time...**


	9. On the Hunt

Survival

Chapter 9: On the Hunt

"Good morning Jack." There was no warmth or "good" in that voice emanating from behind him. It only promised more pain. "I see you are recovering well. Too bad the Guardians have no idea where you are. I am sure they are searching now in a blind panic. Poor fools."

"What are you talking about?" What did his healing have to do the Guardians looking for him?

"You don't know... Well, let me explain it in a way your simple mind will understand. You are a parasite. You are leaching energy and magic from your fellow Guardians to heal yourself. You are being a burden to them and they must be desperate to put a stop to it before they are all drained as well, unable to complete their jobs or protect those innocent children they hold so dear. You are endangering them all and everything they protect. If anything happens to them, it will be all your fault."

"No. I can't be. How do I stop it?! What have I done wrong?!"

"Calm yourself, little snowflake. I am holding off my new fearlings for the moment, but the duration all depends on you."

"What do I have to do?"

"Hold still."

"... That's it? Hold still? Done!"

Pitch could not hold back his chuckle as the next phase of his revenge was initiated. _'Too easy.'_

* * *

"Bunny! Sandy! Did ya find anything?" North was questioning them mid stride even before they could all properly sit down for a discussion. They were all back in Santoff Clausen; well, all but Jack. "We check all around the pond, tree and Burgess. No sign of anyt'ing! Not even frost!"

"Pitch. It was Pitch. That bloody demon has Jack."

Tooth's wings hitched then started fluttering at supersonic speeds in terror. "Pitch! You sure!"

"Yes we're sure! Sandy, show 'em."

Holding out a golden palm, several black grains of sand were visible for all to see. The images of a mare, a fort and a moon formed above his head.

"They were formed a fortnight ago? Two weeks? That's impossible!" North was still in denial, but his hope was fading fast.

"'Tis true, mate. There wa' also evidence of a battle. Pitch's back. Don' know how, but he is. An' he's got Jack."

"We must find Pitch's layer! The hole it used to be in by Burgess was still sealed! What do we do?! We must find Jack! Pitch must be doing terrible things! Where do we start?!" Tooth was hyperventilating and zooming in circles above their heads. Her motherly instincts were in overdrive. "What if he hurts his teeth!" That last thought caused a look of horror to cross her face.

"Tooth, teeth will be fine. Is rest of him we need worry about. Now calm down. Sandy, where was that dream that was transformed into nightmare destined?" Backtracking was as good a place to start as any. Any clue would be helpful.

The image of China formed above the diminutive man's head. A country rich in history and the ghosts of war and long dead rulers.

"China? Ya sure Sandy? A tad warm there las' month for a frostbite."

He nodded his head. It had been destined for the dream of an elementary school girl who had a rough home life. 'Poor girl. She really needed a peaceful sleep that night; a break from her family and school to recover. I should have checked.'

"Right! Then to the sleigh!" Aster groaned as the jolly Russian made his pronouncement of doom upon the heads of the other guardians. Sure it was fast, but it was no guarantee to get there in one piece. To his surprise, Sandy was waving at them.

"Sandy what is it?" Tooth asked.

He made the image of his airplane above his head followed by a compass.

"You wan'a take us 'cause you know where it is? Sound good ta me. You North?"

"Da, would be best. Tooth?"

"I'm so excited! I've never ridden in a plane before!"

"Right, 'tis settled then. Sandy, to the window!" North bellowed changing direction and leading them all to the giant window. Opening it, he stepped out of the way so Sandman could work his magic. A marvelous enclosed aircraft formed out of the tendrils of glowing sand. Enclosed so as to ease Bunny's discomfort with the idea of flying. The short guardian donned his classic goggles and scarf nonetheless; no reason to dispense with tradition completely.

Once Sandman was settled in the cockpit, he motioned for the others to board. The craft was spacious enough for the brute of a northern warrior to fit comfortably. The engines started and they were off. Once clear of Santoff Clausen, he motioned for North forming a snow-globe image followed by scenes of Deqen, Yunnan. Luckily North was well versed in all towns of the world from his yearly excursions. In understanding, North pulled a globe and whispered their destination: a secluded mountain village near roaring waterfalls in the heart of China. Once through the portal they continued to fly until arriving at a tiny home where a little girl and her parents were sleeping.

It was a risky idea Sandman had come up with, but it may work. He formed a tendril of dream sand and sent it through the window to the slumbering child. Once it made contact it transformed into images of little boats on the river. They watched in horror as after a few moments the ships turned black and the river rose to swallow them, the swirling chaos shifting and solidifying into that of a glistening nightmare. She pranced in glee around the girl, sniffing at her cringing form before letting out a whinny and galloping off into the night.

Without a second to loose, the plane shot off after the elusive mare. She galloped and swirled, melting into shadows only to emerge again up ahead. Tooth summoned a swarm of her daughters to surround and head off the beast as Sandman brought a glass jar from his satchel. The tiny faeries were valiant and stuck together so as not to be swallowed as easy targets and corralled the fearsome nightmare as a lasso of dream sand settled around her neck causing the nightmare to dissolve into a stream of darkness being channeled into a clear prison.

Now, to somehow tinker with this nightmare to make her lead them to Pitch.

**A/N Sorry for the delay, ILM is coming to take a few of us animation majors to intern next semester to work on the new Star Wars films so I have been slaving over my portfolio. Interview is October or November. Priorities!**


	10. Holding Still

Survival

Chapter 10: Holding Still

He had an idea. Sandy could track his own dream sand across the globe when no tainted with fear. Somehow he had to get some of his golden sand attached to this nightmare without it transforming or being noticeable by Pitch. The black sand seemed to be unable to travel through glass. Pitch had to be there in person for the first fearling of every child to be created. They would then escape through open windows, under door cracks, up chimneys, or lurk under the bed for months to come if commanded to by Pitch. If the Sandman could place some of his sand in a jar, paint it black so its luminescence would not shine through and place it in the stomach of the mare, he should be able to follow her to the ends of the Earth. Thank MIM that nightmares clung to the Nightmare King instinctively, so she should lead them straight to Pitch.

With no time to waste, he put his plan into action, borrowing some of Aster's paint to complete the project. He opened the jar to let her resume her twisted form but bound her with golden ropes so she could not move much. Using his hand like a spear, he knifed his hand into the center of the beast and deposited his homing beacon. Shrill whinnying filled the cabin of the dream plane as she bucked in pain, shrieking as the jar was enveloped inside her. Mission accomplished, he let her loose.

* * *

It was a strange sensation, sand drawing away from his wrists as the chains lengthened him to deposit him on the floor face up. It was much gentler than he thought Pitch would ever be. _'Stay still. I have to hold still whatever he does. I can't drain the others. They didn't do anything wrong. I have to spare them.'_

"Very good, Jack. You are becoming very good following orders."

Jack grit his teeth in response. He was not trying to please Pitch, just trying to cause the least damage to those he cared about. He was not good enough to be a martyr, he was no Saint, but at least he could do some damage control. His eyes followed Pitch warily as he crept up to one of Jacks exposed wrists, his pale finger ghosting across it in examination, his face drawn in contemplation.

Suddenly, a dark knife materialized in his hand and was brought down into his thin wrist carving an intricate pattern across all his self-inflicted scars. Jack was too tired to arch in pain, he just let his head flop to the side and let a weak cry of pain escape his slightly blue lips. Then that disturbing, slimy sensation reoccurred. Pitch was licking the incision, a pleased hum escaping his throat. Eyes narrowed, but warily watching the enemies movements, Jack was perturbed to see Pitch raise his own wrist over Jack's and cut it with the same knife, allowing his dark, tainted blood to drip and mingle with Jacks own. It seeping into the etching and was followed by more of that blasted dark sand flowing through his veins. It stung and itched. Something was happening, but Jack was too fatigued to concentrate fully to figure it out.

After inspecting his work, Pitch prowled to the other side and duplicated his work on the other appendage. 'So close, so close to the perfect revenge.' Standing back he was hypnotized as grey spread from the ruins he had just carved into Jack. They were spiraling and creeping in all directions, slowly enveloping the entirety that had once been Jack Frost.

Frost was hyperventilating. It hurt, it itched, it burned. His veins felt like they were on fire, and it was spreading. He could not stop it. He could no longer hold still and started clawing at the offending sites where the torment was focused and most prominent.

"Ah, ah, ah little Jackie! Hold still!" His feet came down on Jack's arms, pinning them in place while he writhed beneath him. "It's almost over." The grey had consumed both Jacks arms and torso, moving downward and up his neck. His hair turned black, soft as raven's wings. Now, just his face was left. Then his eyes. With the last spurt, the gray entered Jack's once ice-blue iris', tainting them to a frosty grey. They blinked once, then twice. A feral grin spread across the once innocent-looking face of a child.

_'Transformation complete.'_ thought Pitch. _'Now, time to see what we have here.'_ Removing his feet from Jack's appendage, Pitch stepped back to admire his handiwork. There, laying on the cold ground was the perfect inverse of Jack Frost. _'Mine.'_

* * *

They were hot on it's tail, had been for hours. The air currents were bumpy like Mother Nature was grieving. Something was wrong. They could all feel it. Their connection with Jack had snapped. They were no longer being drained of their healing magics.

"Wha' 'appened? Wha's goin' on?"

"It's Jack. Pitch must have broken our connection with him somehow. That should be impossible! What did he do?! Jack could still be dying right now and we can't even help him! We might be too late!"

"Tooth, calm down. Sandy, don't lose that nightmare. 'Tis our only hope of finding Jack before too late."

With renewed determination, Sandy flew like the devil was on their heels, which metaphorically, he was. That demon Pitch had better not have killed off their precious young Guardian. With narrowed eyes hidden beneath his goggles, he watched as the mare dove towards the ground suddenly. They must be close to the entrance.

"There it is! Sandy, land next to 'er and we can go in on foot." the Pooka exclaimed. While the plane was a vast improvement from the sleigh, he still preferred hard earth to shifting sands.

There were here. Jack was down there, wherever "here" was. It was desolate a cold with little vegetation. Perfect Pitch haunting ground, rotted bed frame and all.

"Alright. Bunny, you take lead. Feel the tunnels for any traps or surprises. I go next, then Tooth. Sandy, you take rear. Protect from surrounding nightmares."

"Wait!"

"Tooth, we can' wait for anythin'. Jack's dying down there!"

"I know. But please." She whistled into the still air. A tiny flock of her little faeries appeared carrying what appeared to be twin rapiers in sheaths. "I had them reforged after the last time Pitch tried to take over. I haven't used them in battle since the Dark Ages. Now, let's go get Jack!"

They entered the tunnels warily but with determination. They had to move fast if they were to save Jack if they were not already too late, but they could not think on that right now. There were glowing eyes watching them from offshoots of the main tunnel they were traveling through. They were not attacking though which was a bad omen of worse to come. Descending into the bowls of the earth, the air became more damp and frigid. It was too quiet. They were surrounded on all sides by quivering mares, some 15 hands tall. Why had they not noticed so many being created? Suddenly they stopped dead as a chill rose up their spines. An echoing laugh was filling the tunnel of shifting shadows. The laugh that should never be uttered by a child's lips, so twisted and full of evil intent. It bounced off the walls and wrapped back on itself causing it to be untraceable until a set of glowing eyes opened in the darkness above them. Glowing grey-blue.

**A/N I couldn't sleep, so here you go.**


	11. Gone Under

Survival

Chapter 11: Gone Under

**A/N This is my second fighting sequence ever to write, so please give me suggestions on how to improve the technique. Thanks!**

_'Where am I? What on Earth is going on?'_ He was floating in darkness. The cold swirled around him in deadly currents playing with his limbs. Under water. _'Again? Why am I thinking about when I died again? Wait...'_ This was different. Not the same time as the night he was created, but another memory in the same lake; the first time he had tried to take his life since awaking as a spirit. The first of many attempts to end his pointless existence as an unseen nuisance that had no purpose. He was one year old since his rebirth and had not been seen, touched or received recognition for existing since that disembodied voice giving him a name and nothing else. A name to share with no one, be called by no one, or even cursed at by anyone. An empty identity.

That first anniversary had been hard. A year of not making a difference in anybody's life or coming any closer to knowing why or if he even existed. Could he die? He had before. Maybe if he died again he would finally rest or maybe comeback as something else that could at least been seen! It was worth a shot. He had nothing to loose. With one last walk through Burgess he stopped avoiding any living creature as they passed through. With each aching chill that passed through him as they did his resolve strengthened. What better way to go than the way he came? Children drowned in his lake before, surely he could to.

Reaching the edge, he closed his eyes and felt the wind pluck at his cloak. It seemed to be begging him to step back, not to do it. Maybe the wind would miss him. She had many others to play with though. He was nothing special. He stepped. Again, and again. Wading deeper into the bowls of his birthplace. Even though he himself was a winter spirit and exuded the cold, he was losing feeling in his legs. He began to swim out to the center where the depths shifted from indigo to the deepest midnight, and stopped. He stopped breathing, moving, and hoping that someone would ever know him. Sinking. Into the depths he drifted at a leisurely pace as the surface frosted over. The farther he sank, the thicker the ice became causing the light to dim even more as it filtered through the rippling patterns of the current. He opened his mouth to breath in the release.

Nothing. He was freezing the water before it could pass through his lips. It wasn't on purpose, just an incidental built in defense of sort damning him to life. There harder he breathed, the farther the ice spread. Soon the entire lake was frozen solid with him at the center, the weight crushing his soul. _ 'I guess drowning doesn't work on me. Why?! What have I done to deserve this existence?!' _In his despair, he cracked through the ice causing shard projectiles to shoot from the lake in all directions leaving an escape rout for the desolate spirit of winter.

_'Why am I remembering this? What did Pitch do? Last thing I remember, he carved some funky symbols into me and then pain. Oh no, why THIS memory!'_ The scene changed displaying the next in a long lineup dredged up memories from Jack's haunted past.

* * *

"Jack! What happened to you! Are you alright!?" That was as far as Tooth got in her questions before the object of her inquiries launched at them staff spinning in his grey hands laughing hysterically while the nightmares joined the fray bearing their gnashing teeth.

Bunnymund launched a boomerang at Jacks staff while it twirled spreading ice along the ground making their footing insecure. It deflected as Wind tossed it aside into a charging nightmare smashing the sand into a dark blossom of destruction before returning to Bunnymund's hand. Tooth buzzed slightly above the ground and brandished her newly reforged rapiers slicing into the withers of two rearing nightmares simultaneously causing them to disperse into darkness while turning and impaling another though the forehead with both weapons. Sandy was covering their backs with whips of pure gold slicing through the twisted versions of his own creations. North raised his twin sabers into a block against Jack's descending staff and was forced to take a knee on the icy ground. Frost spread along his sabers from the point of extended contact and Jack continued to bare down on the Russian laughing the entire time.

"Who are you?" North gritted out between clenched teeth. He shifted his weight to the right bringing his sabers over and uncrossing them sending Jack's staff to the floor causing more frost to spread out in hauntingly beautiful patterns across the already frozen landscape. Jack's only reply was to let a jagged grin split his face as he launched yet again at the man from the north.

"He won't respond to you. His body is mine now, along with his gifts." Pitch's voice echoed through the claustrophobic chaos.

"What d'ya mean? Wha'd ya do ta 'im?" Bunny asked between swipes with his boomerangs at five fearlings snapping at his tail, ears, and whatever else they could reach. It was less than effective so he sheathed them and broke out his martial arts repertoire instead smashing them with feet, hands and his skull. He was a one man fighting machine but the fearlings were like a hydra, constantly being replaced by more. _'When did Pitch make all these and how the bloody bushranger did we not notice!' _

"Poor Jacks mind is gone. Lost in a loop of his worst memories. Ones that drove him to self-harm and worse. If only you knew."

"What are you talking about Pitch? Jack would never do such a thing! He is the Guardian of Fun not despair or fear like you!" Tooth had maneuvered above the raging fearlings and had started taking them from above with deep cuts and fatally wounding many with each path she carved through the fray.

"Ah, but he wasn't always. Did you notice rabbit? The stench of hopelessness that clung to him for almost 300 years? Is that why you avoided him all that time?"

Bunnymund stole a look at Jack who was locked in a stalemate once again with North but was steadily weakening the older man with each blow that landed on the glittering twin sabers slick and dulled with ice. "I jus' didn' pay attention. I look after the living anklebitters, spirits are not my main concern." He ducked under a lunging fearling and struck out with a back kick to pierce though it's rib cage causing it to join the other victims. "I could feel it's lingerin' effects on 'im tho'. 'Is smile was never quite right."

"And it never will be now. He will never recover from this mental torture, but that's all the better for me. He's too resistant and spiteful. This way, I get everything I want from him without the continued struggle and Jack has a purpose in existing. It's a win-win!"

"You are sick man Pitch!" North huffed as he redirected another of Jack's wild swings still trying not to harm the young Guardian of Fun. It was no use. He was loosing energy and needed to end this soon. Time for drastic measures. He pulled out a snowglobe with one hand while he parried with the other. Holding it close, he whispered to it and threw it straight at Jack. Having access to all of Jack's pre-possession memories, the dark version of Jack knew to avoid at all costs. Leaping into the air on the wind into the shadows of the ceiling he avoided be transported to wherever North had intended. Without missing a beat, he teleported through the shadows into North's own silhouette. Rising from beneath, he transformed his staff into his own version of Pitch's scythe sinking it deep into the burly Russians unprotected back.

"Nooo!" screamed Tooth as she zipped to North's aid taking on the twisted form of Jack while North sunk to his knees, then to the ground as blood the color of his suit spread around him following the frost patterns in a demented version of beauty.

"North!" Bunnymund cried while leaving a wake of destruction wading his way over to his fallen comrade. Sandy looked back at them fought with renewed vigor decimating the fearlings in great swaths.

Pitch's laughter reverberated through the underground tunnel.


End file.
